


Triple Point

by L0chn3ss, lucyrne (theungenue)



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Bad Weather, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Hurt/Comfort, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 16:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7446727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L0chn3ss/pseuds/L0chn3ss, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theungenue/pseuds/lucyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Triple Point - The intersection point between two boundaries, often a focus for thunderstorm development." Black*Star comes inside from a heavy thunderstorm to find Maka crumpled on the floor, despondent and crying. He comforts her as they wait for the storm to pass. Reverb 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. She was not afraid of the storm; in fact, she thrived in its eye.

**Author's Note:**

> A brotp collaboration work between the artist, Happyisahabit, and the authors, Lucyrne and L0chn3ss.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intro.

_triple point. n._ the intersection point between two boundaries, often a focus for thunderstorm development. triple point also may refer to a point a favored location for tornado development (or redevelopment).

* * *

Maka was a mess of a girl, but one more precise than a storm and more vengeful than the winds. She was like a hurricane, a controlled disaster sent to ruin her own life as a detached concept of herself waited in the center, watching it all fall apart. It was safe in her eye, to be surrounded by her destruction and protected from the harsh outside, the harsh outside that would ultimately consume her unless she went for it first.

That was how she learned to be fearless, vicious, and the one who controlled her own reality. Ever since she found her strength, Maka allowed herself to command her forces, putting herself into a flurry of motion. Even when she was presented with conflict, she was never afraid of the storm; in fact, she thrived in the center of its chaos. That world in which she entered was never meant to be a playground for the fainthearted. No, it was her magnum opus, a masterpiece of its own sort.

And her best work was always herself.

Her wild form was where she got shit done, where she condensed it and gathered it to use as energy. And she used it to change, to ruin, and then to create a new beginning that let her flourish as a person. Like a river bank after a flood and like a forest after a blaze, Maka came. She saw. And she left behind a part of her that grew.

So lovely was a passing storm, but everyone prays for storms to end.

And so did Maka.

Sometimes, damages are too great, and even the storm knows of the horrors it has created. This wasn’t a revered god such as Shiva who mistakenly took her fire too far; this was a girl with too many ambitions to fulfill in too little time. This was Maka, the girl with too many burdens to bear upon her shoulders. And she was rebellious, cautious, and much too reliant on herself to know that she was only one person, and she was only human.

And Black Star was too, though he was another entity of his own.

He was another type of storm, another opposing nature with his own eye where he stood while his winds raged on. Yet in the moment, he was just another boy, entering his dark and quiet home, unlocking his front door to escape the thunderstorm outside. He let out a noise of discontent and shook off his wet beanie, discarding it on a stand close to the entry as he flicked the lights on.

But the moment he felt the sting of the air and the smell of grief, his hairs stood on its ends and goosebumps emerged under his coat. Black Star shrugged the jacket off entirely, dropping it on his muddy boots, caring about something else as his utmost priority.

He dimmed the lights, not taking his eyes off the fallen scarf by his bathroom door.


	2. Rampant is her breath as she grips her chest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter 1.

_rampant. adj._ flourishing or spreading unchecked. violent or unrestrained in action or performance.

* * *

Black Star’s wet socks marked the wood as he ran towards his bathroom, kicking away the bright yellow scarf further down the hallway as he skidded to a halt by the door. It was still slightly ajar, and he could just make out another pair of white socks on the floor by the toilet. They were much too clean to be his, and way too small to be Tsubaki’s. Not to mention they were worn.

 _Maka confirmed_ , Black Star thought grimly. _But why would she be here at this time in the night?_

He remembered the shock of her soul just moments before. His mind jumped quickly to several different causes. Soul with his weird habit of stealing Maka’s bobbie pins. Yes, that would make her upset. Her favorite ‘I love constellations’ mug, shattered. ‘Tangled’ the Disney movie. No, only he cried at the end when that family reunited. It may have been ‘Beauty and the Beast’ honestly. Everyone cried at the end. Ok, fine… Maybe an unironed tie. Spirit giving her the uniform of his favorite ‘bar’. God-ness gracious. _Think, think, think_ … Why is there so much sadness emitting from the other side of the walls.

He squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his fists and promising to right what was wrong in Maka’s name, and pushed it open with a bang. And he regretted it.

She jumped from inside the bathtub with her fingers outstretched and tears strengthening as every second passed by. Black Star realized later that night that the flickered light and the violent entry mirrored that of a flash of lightning, but he knew straight away that Maka was hardly present within her body. It was like she was in an altered reality, one that only contained herself and the thunder outside. She let out a small sob after counting her fingers and hid her face in her arms at the thought of the storm moving closer.

Just for a moment, all he could do was to stand there, and to let the severity of the event to truly sink into his mind. He wondered how long she had sat alone for in the cold tub, and how long she had been counting the distance of the danger. He wondered what could have shaken his earliest friend into such a state, or who had the _balls_. He wondered if she came in search of Tsubaki, and just how unlucky she was to have Black Star here instead. His blood ran icier than the waters by glaciers, and his heart fell to the deepest of chasms.

_How can he help her?_

In the only ways he could try. He moved slowly towards her shaking form, as if he were approaching a small animal. But Maka didn’t back away nor did she do anything to indicate that she registered his presence. Black Star cleared his throat, kneeling down by her side to ask her gently if it would be alright if he touched her, if it would be alright if he moved her.

No response.

He asked again, and none came again. No words were better than negative, he reasoned, and he proceeded to enter her space. His arms shook as he wrapped her shoulders in a close embrace and scooped her from the tub; he could feel the clamminess under her knees if it was any indicator of how long she held her position until now. Almost like a doll, she closed her eyes as she laid back, and her head bumped against his chin, finding its home against his neck as he carried her from the bathroom to his bedroom.

She was cold-- hardly even breathing. Never had Black Star seen Maka so frozen in time outside of a fight. Never had Maka been so still in all her life. He hugged her even closer to his warm chest, still speaking softly to let her know where she was, what was happening, and who she was outside of this space.

She is Maka, a fearless storm, a reckless hurricane, slayer of gods and young ones, too. She was with Black Star as he brought her to a better place, somewhere cleaner with white socks and with blankets and pillows and all the shit she needed to be comfortable, too. She was at his home right now, and his home will always be her home, too. And most importantly, it was going to be alright.

_Maka, you’re going to be ok._

But Maka, _what’s wrong?_

A storm wasn’t afraid of itself-- certainly she wasn’t crying because she was afraid of rain.

* * *

 

**Interlude 1**

If ten year-old Maka was lightning, eleven year-old Black Star was thunder. Wherever she appeared, he soon followed with a bellowing crash. And just like lightning, people were less likely to notice Maka unless she was incredibly bright. Black Star need only rumble to get attention.

This was true even at home. Sometimes Mama and Papa were gone for days. Sometimes one was gone, but not the other. But no matter how many parents were home, she felt she had no choice but to act out to get their attention. Her friend was always ready to help.

Enter Maka, pursued by Black Star.

Maka had no idea if any of her parents were present to witness their latest rampage. All she knew was that losing tag to her best friend was the absolute _worst,_ and not a single object in her childhood home was safe. Having already outrun him from Sid Barret’s home, Maka ripped her front door open and sped down the hall.

She tripped on a corner of carpet, and as she fell to her knees Maka heard the trademark _‘YAHOO’_ that signalled her pursuer’s advance. She scrambled back to her feet and sprinted to the kitchen.

Black Star made it a habit to needlessly run up walls and jump over furniture. He left a trail of sneaker prints on the hallway wallpaper trying to fit in a backflip, and a stray jerk of his elbow knocked a picture of the Albarn family clean off its wall hanging. He whirled after Maka into the kitchen, where she had hidden on the other side of the kitchen table to put some distance between them.

So he leapt and slid across its polished wood surface. Maka squealed and crawled underneath the table to get away, leaving Black Star to slide off the table and slam forehead first into the wall. She almost missed her chance to get away from him, she was laughing so hard.

With her chest aching from both fatigue and endless giggling, climbing up the narrow staircase of her home was a challenge. It was a lucky thing that Black Star, the best tag player Maka had ever known, had concussed himself enough to give her time.

Once she made it to her bedroom, she was home free. Maka would win.

Just a little further…

Her dreams of victory were immediately dashed by another enthusiastic _‘YAHOO_.’

Black Star ran up the bannister with ninja grace to beat her to the top of the stairs. He leapt right in front of her bedroom door, barring her entry. “HA!” Black Star said. “Face it Pigtails, you got no where else to run.”

Maka turned heel and bolted for her parents bedroom. As the master bedroom it was a larger space that afforded more hiding places. She had hardly entered the room when her clamoring footsteps stopped cold.

There were things in the room that didn’t belong. A dark red bralette draped on the dresser. A pair of wedges too impractical for Mama to ever choose by the vanity. An unmade bed that Mama usually straightened up before leaving for work. Something sick and angry settled at the bottom of Maka’s stomach. A trickle of laughter that sounded like Papa reached her ears, and she moved forward to investigate the sound.

But a warm hand clasped hers and wrenched her away.

Her vision blurred as Black Star guided her into her own room and tossed her into her own bed. Maka was too shocked and confused to stop him. There was a woman in her house. _There was a strange woman in her house._ The usual feelings of disgust and anger towards her father when she spied him running around behind Mama’s back coiled and hissed like a seething cobra trapped in its own nest. But a darker, more unsettling emotion began to stir.

“You beat me.” Maka’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt. “You win, fair and square,” Black Star said. He held out his hand to shake.

Maka stared at that hand with a frown, anger simmering in the base of her stomach. “But I didn’t win,” she said.

“‘Course you did. You made it to the top of the stairs before me. That’s the start of the safe zone.”

Those weren’t the terms of play Maka remembered agreeing on before they started their game. “Nuh uh,” she said coldly.

“Yeah huh! What, do you _like_ losing?”

Maka absolutely did not like to lose, especially to _Black Star,_ who made it his policy to lord it over her whenever he won. Which is why this act of--of--of _charity_ felt so humiliating and gross.

She didn't want it.

Black Star, still holding his hand out to her, flashed her a small, but reassuring smile. The gesture made Maka’s rage cool in a thick steam. She swallowed and took his hand. How could she act like Black Star was anything less than her one true ally, her best friend? After all, he wasn’t the object of her true anger. Charity sucks, but at least it came from a genuine place.

That was something she could always depend on Black Star for. Honesty. _Loyalty_. If there was another boy out there who exemplified those qualities more than he, Maka hadn’t met him yet. And frankly, she doubted she ever would.

* * *

 

Black Star had left Maka for a brief moment to herself as he went to boil tea. Before leaving though, he made sure to re-sock her feet and tucked her into his comforter. When he reentered, Maka was by window, her eyes glassy as she stared at a sheet of paper on the floor. It was a grocery list that fell from the pocket of her skirt as Black Star carried her in, yet she treated it like it was a pink slip.

He dropped to the floor with her and scooted closer. “Come ‘ere, Maks.”

She didn’t come.

He blushed slightly as the awkwardness settled back in between them, reminding them both that their souls did not mesh. He didn’t know exactly what she wanted or what she needed. That was Soul’s job to care for her that way. Black Star though? He had a different role to fill, and although he was never the one Maka ran to when she needed to talk; he was the one she came to for familiarity.

“I’m coming closer then,” he told her, taking a step forward.

Maka brought her hands up to cover her ears and closed her eyes as if she couldn’t bear to know what happened next. Her breath ran rampant. Black Star thought it was because of him at first-- that he did something wrong to illicit such a reaction, so he stopped in place and time. But thunder came just as quickly and the sound resonated with their bones. She wasn’t afraid of the weather.

That was only the aftershock.


	3. She looks on as her tears stem from velleity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2.

_velleity. n._ a wish or inclination not strong enough to lead to action.

* * *

The storm was here.

Rain battered his windows, trying to break into the room through sheer force. Even though his heater ran properly, Black Star felt ice seeping into his bones.

She was trapped somewhere he couldn't reach, and that place was within herself. A storm protected her secrets. The winds pulled away the sound of her thoughts. Leaves cut into anyone who passed. And Black Star was stuck outside her unwelcoming forces.

No matter how long she looked on, no one could relieve a victim when the storm peaked in strength. So he did what any ol’ weather expert would have done.

He waited.

Let her unwind her limbs on her own when she realized she could still control them. Let her peel her watery eyelids apart so she could remind herself where she was. Let her be, let Maka do what she does best.

Because there wasn't anything he could do unless he let her go.

She was always the first one to make progress. Where there were broken pieces of undesirable shortcomings, there was also Maka who turned them into stepping stones. Sometimes it took only the slightest push, and sometimes it took nothing at all.

He knew this best of all, brushing dust off of rustic memories. Black Star was a distraction, not a remedy. He took her away from her worries and he gave her something new to dwell on. Even if he wanted to be somewhat of a comfort to her, there was nothing that he could offer in such a way. So at the very least, he served his purpose by other means.

When her features softened, Black Star was there to hold her hand, literally. He whispered a narrative of his day as he massaged each palm, making sure to press every helpful pressure point that Tsubaki taught him. Even though his fingers were cold, her skin gradually became warm.

He still spoke too loud and too quickly at times, but the Maka who just opened her eyes didn't hear his words anyway. And that was ok. Until she regained her senses, Black Star would be there to wait, no matter how little patience he really had. He channeled his frustrations into the circular motions connecting their touching hands instead. His voice remained unsteady.

Eventually, Maka yanked away her pinkened hands, wiping the troubles off her face. A different sort of shield was in place now as she restrained her emotions while Black Star struggled not to throw a “you know you suck at holding back” at her. They stared uncomfortably at one another, unwilling to yield their invaded space.

“What are you doing here?”

“Maka, you're in _my_ room.”

_“What are you doing here?”_

“You're in _my_ room!”

Almighty… He’d forgotten how painfully _annoying_ she was. Had it been only four weeks since they last saw each other? And now she shows up with _waterworks_ of all things. Visitation hours were over. The last hour of the meet-and-greet passed. _Get out._ Both continued to sit stiffly, breaking form only when the next flash struck, booming through the air. She jumped out of shock, hitting Black Star’s chin squarely with her head.

Maka held back a squeak of pain. “Why didn't you _move_?”

“I don't have to, hard-head!” He checked his jaw to make sure it was still intact. “You are in _my fucking room._ I'm not going to move for you in my own damn house!”

“Well, what are you doing here then? What the heck am I doing here then?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“Because you are supposed to know everything, aren’t you?”

Lightning cracked in the sky.

“Listen, Pigtails,” he shoved a finger between her eyes, “I'm not the one who showed up unannounced this time.”

Maka responded by looking away, crossing her arms like a belligerent child. Seventeen years old and counting. _Are you serious?_

Electricity booms again.

This time, both people were at a standstill. The first to move was the loser. A familiar game that he thought they’d left behind years ago.

* * *

**Interlude 2**

It was actually Sid who taught Black Star that cool trick where you count between thunder claps and lightning strikes. When you see lightning flash, the amount of Mississippis that pass before the crack of thunder was supposed to equal how many miles away the storm was. He didn’t know or care if it was accurate. It just made sense.

One summer, back before he had enrolled in EAT or met Tsubaki or done any of the cool things that made him virtually immortal, Black Star and Maka passed a boring evening at Sid’s. Maka was mad at her parental units again, and Black Star gave himself a charlie horse in his right calf, so no one was in a good mood. Their only consolation were the freezy pops stowed in the cooler, which they silently sucked on at the kitchen table.

Black Star’s freezy pop used to be lime green, but he sucked out the flavor so completely that it was now colorless. Maka’s was bright blue, and it stained the edges of her lips.

Though it was still early afternoon, the sky was a dark grey. A storm was coming. Mira claimed that her bones ached when storms approaches. Black Star’s bones didn’t twinge at all, but something within him did.

A vein of lightning flashed in the clouds. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four Mississippi. Five Mississippi. Six Mississippi. _Crack._

“Hide your belly button,” Maka said suddenly. Black Star shot her an incredulous look. “It’s what Mama always says,” she clarified. “Hide your belly button when it thunders. That way it doesn’t get stolen by the _raiden_.”

“Is that a Japanese thing?” Black Star asked. Maka was really his only window into his birth culture, and even then it was always secondhand. Would his parents--his real parents--have told him to cover his belly button too?

Maka slurped her popsicle and answered, “Mmmhmm.”

He considered this preposterous myth. Then he removed his shirt. Who cares about belly buttons anyway? They’re useless. Plus Black Star had an outie. He could lure a god right out of the sky. Had anyone ever fought thunder and lightning itself and won?

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four Mississippi. Fiv-- _Crack!_

“Wanna go outside?” he asked.

Maka bit off a huge chunk of blue ice and chewed it slowly. She swallowed and said, “What about the rain?”

“Pssh, what about it? You gonna melt or something? Like an ugly ‘ole witch?”

“No,” Maka said, growing red. “I just don’t like getting my hair wet.”

Black Star gobbled up the rest of his popsicle and swallowed the urge to wince as his brain froze over. “Welp, suit yourself. I’m gonna expose myself to the elements and roundhouse kick a _raiden._ You have fun in here with your dry hair.”

He was only halfway out the door when he heard the spring of the trashcan lid popping open and plastic crinkling inside. Of course she wouldn’t leave him to fight a god alone.

The Barrett home sat on the outskirts of the city nearby a park--a grassy oasis in a desert city. It was there that the two friends trudged, willfully ignoring the foreboding clouds circling above them. They climbed a steep hill barren of any tree cover. It was just them and the open air.

There was now only two and a half seconds in between the lightning and thunder. The storm would be here any minute.

“You’re probably gonna run inside like a baby when the sky starts spitting,” Black Star said.

“Ha, you _know_ I’m not doing that,” Maka retorted.

“D’you think the _raiden_ is real?”

“Shinigami are real, so why not?”

Good point.

The two friends sat down on the grass, criss-cross applesauce, and waited. Though they didn’t say it aloud, whoever moved first from their spot was a lily-livered chicken. He felt the first drop of rain on his forehead at the same time as a soft rumble of thunder. Only one second this time. If Maka felt anything, she didn’t let on.

The temperature dropped as the air pressure changed and the wind picked up speed. Across from him, Maka pursed her lips to swallow a shiver. Black Star bit his tongue to swallow his. He never put his shirt back on, but his shorts gradually grew damp and cold. Water droplet stains collected on Maka’s t-shirt, and the cold fabric began to cling to her shoulders.

Black Star physically acknowledged the quickening rain for the first time when an enormous raindrop splashed on his eye. Maka didn’t catch his flinch because she was being assaulted herself with splotches of rain. Neither spoke, willing themselves to sense nothing but the consistent rhythm of the storm.

The sky wasn’t spitting. It was falling apart. The _raiden_ must be coming.

A smack of thunder right over their heads made both children jump. In the midst of the rushing rain it became hard to see, so Black Star squeezed his eyes shut. There was no point in counting Mississippis now. It was here.

His blue hair was completely matted. Its points far drooped past his chin. The wetness was unbearable, but bear it he would. He was tougher than this. It would take more than a puny battle against the elements to send him running home.

The sound of Maka’s scream wiped his smirk right off Black Star’s face.

His first thought was that the _raiden_ had decided to harvest Maka’s belly button over his own. Which was ridiculous because he had an outie! But when he looked over the hill edge, he saw that Maka’s bare feet had slipped on the grass. She must have decided to go home after all, only to tumble down the hill, head over heels, with a shriek.

She crumpled at the bottom of the hill, completely still.

The coldness of the rain penetrated Black Star’s skin like an avalanche. Slick grass speeded his descent down the slope, heart thudding, muscles tenses. In an instant he was kneeling at her side, checking for vitals. He even peeked at her belly button. Still there.

Her limp body wasn’t so lifeless afterall. After he shook her a couple times, Maka flailed her arms to get him off her and roll onto her knees and elbows.

Having expected Maka to be on the throes of death, Black Star was at a loss now that he knew she was just fine. And then the embarrassment set in. If he didn’t act quickly, Maka might believe he was _worried_ about her.

So he flicked her on the forehead, right between the eyes.

“Hey!” Maka scowled and rubbed her forehead. “You _jerk!”_

“That’s punishment for abandoning me,” Black Star said, haughty and invulnerable one more. “Count yourself lucky that it was gravity that kicked your ass and not me.” But really, Black Star counted himself lucky.

The rain was nothing more than a trickle when the children returned home without spying the _raiden_ once. Sid gave the two children a long lecture when they finally came back inside, soaked to the bone and sniffing.

* * *

He draped his scarf over her shoulders, breaking their angry silence as he give it another loop around her neck for good measure. Black Star could already hear her biting words. _I don't need your charity_ , she’d say. He wouldn't give her the chance to.

There were things he knew he shouldn't say, especially at the wrong time. He did it anyway.

“So, what are you doing here?” he said after clearing his throat, doubt still stuck between his teeth. He’d never chosen this path before-- the one that directly confronted her when he knew she was in turmoil. Some distraction he was… _oops_...

Maka flinched. Her angry words were sharp as she flung them at Black Star, repeating what he was already telling himself.

He was unhelpful, _stupid_ for turning her question against her. He was an awful, _awful_ jerk. She didn't want him here, not when he hadn't been there since they left one another.

But she kept his scarf on. The dirty, smelly, _rain soaked scarf._

If that wasn't a cue, then he gave up. He didn't understand her anymore. The years put between them finally took their toll. There wasn't a day where he didn't regret their broken friendship. They would claim to be close as ever to their classmates when in reality they couldn't have been more separated.

If Black Star realized this, then Maka must have noticed years ago on her own. They hardly knew what was going on in each other's lives anymore, only that they were working towards their individual success. Partners only as teammates, saving each other when it mattered most only in the past. Just then, he felt the need to ask something he never needed to before. He tried again, this time using another phrase, something he should have said in the first place.

“Maka, what's wrong?”


	4. The hour strikes chrysalism when her strength returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter 3.

chrysalism. n. the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm, listening to waves of rain pattering against the roof like an argument upstairs, whose muffled words are unintelligible but whose crackling release of built-up tension you understand perfectly.*

*not officially a word

* * *

The wind settled down on the other side of his window. It no longer howled rebelliously, smoothing over its temper tantrum like it never happened.

Summer storms were like that. They didn’t linger. Pity, Black Star thought, that life didn’t work the same way. Stuff like childhood abandonment and trust issues follow you around forever, and good things like friendship drift away with time. What a fucking rip.

Rest assured, when he one day transcended his moral existence and rewrote the laws of the universe, that was one of the first discrepancies he was fixing.  

But for now, the best he could do was damage-control. Which honestly wasn’t a whole lot. Though at the same time, maybe it was enough.

Upon hearing his question, her rage seemingly disappeared, melting away her insults mid-sentence. His charged line quelled her fury, sparking another emotion he hadn't known existed within her. Was this what she looked like when she was vulnerable?

She was impenetrable for so long; it was time for her to let go. So she cried again. Yes, again. Because sometimes you cry over nothing, because everything collides all at once.

In her blubbering, Black Star could only pick out a few phrases out of the cascade that flowed from her mouth. She complained about her apartment, how it was dirty as shit because Soul trashed it just the other night and still hasn’t cleaned his mess. He’s still in a pissy mood over how he couldn’t part his hair right. Her mom never answered her calls-- had never answered her many, many phone calls Maka has left for her in her voice mail. It was always the same monotone voice. “Please leave your name and message after the beep.” Spirit was getting pushy. Can’t he leave her alone? Go bother mama instead-- maybe he’ll get an answer. Kid wanted progress. None, sorry boy. Blair hasn’t been home. The flowers by her kitchen window died while she was away on a mission, and no rain came in this desert city to save them. Last night, there was hair in her food. It wasn’t even her hair; her hair is blonde dammit. Why is her hair blonde?

And Star, it’s just not a good day.

It’s just not a good week.

It’s just not a good time  _ at all _ , Star.

And all she did was take it. The pressure. The pain. The feeling of responsibility as it crumbled through her fingers. She wasn’t strong enough to change things for better or for herself, and she still isn’t strong enough to pick up the broken pieces and to fix it up. “Good as new.”

_ No, let her be. _

Let her run from these problems and pretend like nothing was wrong. Let her be safe and calm and act as if life weren’t ready to strike her where she stood. Let the things, the stuff, the to-dos fall away. Please-- just let her be a child once again who took cover from storms and who hid away from rain.

Black Star heard this; he heard the hurt in her soul and her vulnerable heart as she removed the illusions that coated it. Now that he knew her worries, he could fulfill his role again. Her familiar distraction. He reached out with his wavelength, and although he couldn’t truly touch her with his aggressive force, he emitted comfort and warmth. With his own body though, he turned around to allow her privacy.

He hoped he reached her.

* * *

 

**Interlude 3**

“Nothing is gonna change after tomorrow, right?”

The question came out of Maka’s mouth, but it surprised both of them. It was a thought the two life-long friends had danced around ever since their EAT class enrollments became final. It just took until this moment, sitting side by side on Sid Barrett’s couch with the TV on, that the fear became tangible enough to speak aloud.

Black Star stuffed his face with some popcorn. Chewing and fishing kernels out of his teeth gave him extra time to mull the question over. When he swallowed, salt and butter still simmering on his tongue, he could only hazard another question.

“What do you mean?”

Maka shrugged. “I dunno.” She folded herself deeper into the cushions.

“ _ Bullshit _ . You never say empty stuff.”

Maka stared at the television, but it was clear that she wasn't watching. Instead, another future was playing in her mind. “Mama says things change when you get paired with a weapon. You spend a lot of time together. Sometimes you even live with them. I guess I’m just wondering...do you think that’s going to change  _ us? _ ”

The question sounded like ripping a tablecloth off of a fully set table and sending every plate and glass clattering to the floor.

Black Star’s guffaw was the shattered glass. “Are you kidding? I’m Black Star. I can do anything. And that includes having more than one best friend at a time.” He didn't know if those words were for her, or if they were meant for him. “Plus weapons are wimpy noodles.”

_ \--somewhere else, Tsubaki laughed along side him, handing him a photo of them during their previous hike up (insert Japanese mountain). Somewhere on the other side of the world, Maka sat curled up against Soul, reading her classics aloud while he played his guitar, listening to her heart as it played its own tune... _

“Right,” Maka muttered with a nod, still uncertain.

“They can’t punch for shit, and they’ll be in different classes than us. I’m offended that you think there is a weapon out there cooler than me.”

_ \-- feverish. She giggled in the way only he could draw from her voice. Black Star was indeed the coolest one now, Tsubaki agreed as he shook off the snow. He was radiant against the white… _

“Oh please, I already know that will never be true.” Maka leaned back against the couch cushions in a more comfortable position. She was more relaxed now that this was out in the open, but some unease remained. “So we’ll still have movie nights?”

_ \--her freshly popped kernels to the couch, dodging her partner's attempt to swipe a few before she began to shovel the buttery mound into her mouth. As she ate, Soul took the chance to put on their Friday favorites, absentmindedly plucking a fallen piece in between their laps... _

“Yup,” Black Star said, popping the ‘p.’ “No partners allowed.”

_ \--none. In the emptiness of the dark, she was the one who brought light to his night. As if no other could enter their world, Black Star lowered his shield for her as she took him in her waiting... _

“And we’ll train together.”

_ \--crawled out of bed. But he did it for her. Even if the sky pissed and even if the earth cracked under him, Soul would run behind her through disaster. The hardest step is the first, he reminded himself as he willed for her back to come closer... _

“Obviously. You think there exists a weapon that can keep up with me? Or put up with you?”

_ \-- shred of hope. Oh, but there was nothing. Nothing but each other as she effortlessly stole his breath, wearing it as if it were her own. He in turn gave her his utmost attention, eyes never leaving her as she danced through the harshness…” _

She punched him in the arm. He didn’t flinch. “Then it’s settled.”

\-- _ and there, they stood suspended in time... _

“Settled like your mom.” Black Star felt her punch this round. 

_ \--months passed before Black Star and Maka had a chance to see each other between missions, and even then, they only briefly nodded in the hallways before heading to their next one… _

_ “Tale as old as time,” _ the song sang, beginning a sequence that both kids knew from heart.

They returned to the movie, but it was an empty peace. Relationships don’t change like the seasons in a constant repetitive cycle. 

“Will you be ok though?”

They pushed forward like boulders on a hill, progressive down their own path in the direction gravity pulled them.

In that moment, Black Star and Maka were suspended on a precipice, standing in place. Tomorrow, they would fall over the edge.

“With or without you, I will be.”

It was in this blissful moment of ignorance, before either Soul or Tsubaki expanded their worlds like the big bang, before the kishin tore it all down again, that Black Star fell asleep on Maka’s shoulder and she on his as the rain fell outside.

* * *

 

“Same shit, different day, huh?” he finally said. 

Maka turned away, this time smirking. “Shit Star, you act like you were there.”

In return, he smiled, turning with her to lean against her back as he looked outside his window.

The sky was still gloomy, and it was still pouring rain like it was trying to wash the world of its sin. But Black Star swore that a certain part in the sky was lighting up where the full moon should have been that night, and that was where he looked as Maka’s hand found his.

He believed she was strong, stronger than him, stronger than anyone else in this world. And even now as she poured out her soul like the passing clouds, even as she was weak within his walls, she was still the strongest person he had ever seen.

Since they were young, they knew: If Maka was lightning, he was thunder. If Maka was rain, he was wind. But if Maka was a hurricane, well… he was a tornado.

They were parallel, carving their own ways. Though their minds clouded with doubt and their soul rained in misery, he knew they were still connected. She covered her face with his scarf, and their hands gripped each other’s tighter as she unleashed a little more of her wrath, harder, and harder, and harder until she had none left to spill. Until she was chrysalism with him.

The storm didn’t pass quite yet. It didn’t  _ need _ to pass since she thrived in its eye.

He had faith she still does-- _with or without him_.


End file.
